I looked down, running a hand over the leather. “Luca gave it to Maggie Beautiful and she gave it to Brando.”
“Brando gave it to you.”
I nodded, fiddling with the powdered sugar that dusted the top of the cannolo. Instead of eating, I took a sip of coffee to warm my chilled blood.
“You must eat. Or else you will become sick.”
“I’m not hungry.”
Uncle Tito sighed. “How do you feel?”
I became quiet for a moment, using my finger to make shapes in the sugar. “If I felt anything close to panic, I wouldn’t be sitting here now. I’d be looking for him.”
“There. You can eat knowing he is all right. Or is something else bothering you?”
“Did you know about this—” I looked around for a moment “—arrangement?”
“Uncle Tito goes where thepiccola colombagoes.”
His eyes met mine and he smiled. “Your husband only wants what is best for you,piccola colomba. You must have faith that he is making the right choice.”
For who?I wondered, but kept the thought to myself.
“You are so much like Grazia. This is why Marzio took an instant liking to you. It was hard for him not to see her when he looked at you.”
“How so?” The wind stirred, and I took another gulp of espresso before tucking a loose strand of hair behind my ear.
“Ah,” he said, swallowing his own sip. “She refused to be left out of anything. If he attempted it,watch out.”
That hung between us for a while, and after a minute or two, I drifted to the edge of the terrace. Guido, Vincenzo, and two other men I didn’t know were loafing around the front of the villa, talking.
Romeo stood off to the side, lost in thought. Romeo could be a thoughtful man, but he had been zoning out more than usual after Juliette left.
Vincenzo looked up and caught me watching him. Our eyes met, and though there was nothing there to pull me toward him, for the first time I felt that he was casting out a line.
“Uncle Tito?”
“Hmm?” Without even looking, I knew that he was concentrating on his puzzle and eating my cannolo. He had finished his. Every so often a crunch would come from his mouth.
“How well do you know Vincenzo?”
“Well enough. I watched them all grow up together.Perché?”
“Is he a good man?”
“He has Fausti blood,” he gave as way of an explanation. “Who is to say how he is as a lover, but as a man, he is one of the fiercest. He does not have the sense of humor Guido has. His, ah, position in thefamigliawas appointed for a reason.”
“He’s an enforcer?”
“If that is what you would prefer to call him,sì. However, he does not match your husband’s…virility. Or temper. Marzio knew that your husband is one of the strongest of the blood. He is his father’s son.”
“Brando wouldn’t…he wouldn’t have gone after Giovi?”
“No.” I heard the chink of his cup against the saucer, heard him take another swallow of coffee. “It is not the way of the heads. That is for men such as Vincenzo to handle. We keep our leaders behind battle lines, unless circumstances demand them to war. Besides, thoseare minnows wishing to be bigger fish.”
Then where the hell was he?
Vincenzo waved up to me. I waved back.
